The Twosome in the Time Travel
by grc73
Summary: Booth and Brennan wonder about just how much sooner they might have got together if it hadn't had been for that pesky line. A 2017 Bonesology Secret Santa fic for Faith in Bones.
1. Chapter 1

**A very Merry Christmas to my Secret Santa gift recipient (who got stuck with me for a SECOND holiday challenge this year - sorry!) - the inimitable Faith In Bones!**

 **H** **er wishes:**

 _ **Booth and Brennan. Any scenario any rating but no death or hate.**_

 **So basically a sand box for me to play in! This has been much easier to write and I've really enjoyed it. Got some more to do but the first chapter has been beta'd (thanks to my Jen) and the second one is nearly complete. I am planning 5 chapters in all - this prologue, then 3 chapters of BnB goodness and finally a final short(er) epilogue. It'll get published over the next couple of weeks, but my aim is to be done by Twelfth Night.**

 **I did get into trouble with Jen that it's not M. I just felt that knowing this was a Christmas thing for someone else, and not everyone reads 'M's, it was fairer to make it a robust 'T'. It's pretty much canon, just with some sticking plasters on it, you'll see what I mean...**

* * *

 **Prologue (set in... well, see if you can work it out ;))**

Temperance Brennan awoke with a start at six am on a June Sunday morning to find a long muscular arm stretch over from behind her and make several attempts to quell the intrusive sound of the alarm now making itself very known to both her, and the owner of said arm. After flapping about for some moments in an action that was like watching someone play whack-a-mole, the arm was finally successful in its quest, and the alarm was silenced.

Having attained its goal, the arm wrapped itself snuggly around Brennan's waist in a very familiar way. The mostly naked body that was attached to the arm pressed up against her, chest to her back, and the mouth on the head attached to that body gently alternated at nibbling and kissing at her bare shoulder, leaving her little interpretation as to her not-so-sleeping companion's intentions. She couldn't help but grin broadly as she felt coarse stubble brush against her pleasingly, and she involuntarily let out something between a sigh and a giggle.

The owner of the arm, encouraged by her response, pressed his lips further upwards into the side of her neck and whispered in her ear seductively:

"Mornin'."

Brennan turned over until she was facing the source of her now very pleasant wake up call. Two broad smiles met each other - the owner of the one not belonging to her, one Special Agent Seeley Joseph Booth. He was propped up by his pillows, giving him a slightly higher vantage point over her.

"Good morning to you too." She reached her head up to peck him lightly on the lips and he re-tightened his grip around her, their arms and legs tangled together as they snuggled closely.

"Bones…" Booth murmured into Brennan's hair, the smell of her regular Argan oil and coconut shampoo comforting and familiar to his still-sleepy brain. "You need to do something 'bout that alarm on weekends. It's unnatural to be up at this early an hour on a Sunday", his voice gruff. "Sunday's are for BBQs, football, and...," he chuckled, pulling the sheet up for a moment so he could look under it to the contents beneath, "...long _naked_ lie-ins with your partner."

"Partner? Doesn't the FBI have rules?" Brennan looked appalled. He looked down at her horrified, his face dropping, its lazy smile becoming replaced with genuine concern.

"Bones… We've been over this..." he began, then, seeing the cheeky grin she'd cracked, realised that she was actually teasing him. His smile returned. "OK, OK, only beautiful partners that I'm in love with."

"Oh yeah?" Her expression turned into something approaching cocky.

"Yeah. Let me enlighten you." He leant in to kiss her properly, as they began a very satisfactory period of said enlightenment.

* * *

They remained entwined together for some time after their exertions, Brennan's head laying on Booth's chest, listening intently to the comforting sounds of his heartbeat as he stroked her hair again gently.

"Bones?"

"Uh-hmmmm?" They had been together for something close to seven weeks now, and whilst everything still felt fresh and new, and in some respects, had required some adjustments (although for the most part it had all been surprisingly straightforward) she had begun to get very used to waking up next to her **very** special agent in the mornings. In rare moments in these glorious recent weeks, Booth had even managed to get Brennan to finally switch off her brain for a short while and just _feel_ , mainly whilst he'd been doing indescribably pleasurable things to her.

Uncharacteristically for her though, Brennan had found, particularly in the last week or so, that she'd been somewhat more tired than usual. Putting it down to their frequent nocturnal activities, but with a nagging feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on, she was more than happy to allow herself to be kept in bed for a few extra minutes in the morning by an eager partner, whether or not it was a work day.

"Sometimes," Booth spoke softly, "I lay next to you and wonder why we didn't do this sooner. All those times I should have kissed you, but I didn't."

"...And maybe all the times that I should have kissed you too," she considered, as she drew tiny patterns on his abdomen with her fingernail, enjoying the texture of the tight planes of his muscles as she touched him.

"It all seems so obvious now, so easy. Sometimes I want to rewrite our history, you know?"

"Well, anthropologically speaking," Brennan paused her finger for a moment in thought, "History is almost always written by the ultimate victors, not the vanquished." Booth chuckled:

"I think this is a win-win." Brennan rolled her eyes and continued to postulate.

"Using the concept of chaos theory, where mathematics is used to compute the effect of complex systems whose behaviour is highly sensitive to slight changes in conditions, so that small alterations can give rise to strikingly great consequences - whence had we kissed in one of those moments, we wouldn't be together right now."

"You mean the Butterfly Effect? Nah, I believe in fate. I believe that you and I would have happened eventually; in fact, I'm certain of it. Every single one of those kisses would have led to right now."

"You know I don't believe in fate, Booth..."

"...But don't you wonder sometimes?" There was a pause of a second or two as the cogs almost visibly turned in Brennan's head. He loved those moments, when she reached _peak squintiness_. She stopped her movements and pulled herself up to share her thoughts further in what appeared to be a revelatory fashion, even to herself.

"I did at the time, many times in fact."

"Really?" He pulled back slightly himself to look at her incredulously. He had not expected her to answer in that way.

"You know I've always found you very attractive since we first met, Booth. It was very difficult not to compartmentalise: our work was so important and at the time I was so used to being alone that it was hard to let anyone in. As I reflect now, there were many times, even early in our partnership, when I would have…" she paused for a moment, "sexual, and as I now understand them to be, romantic fantasies about you." She smiled at him with affection and almost a hint of sadness.

"Mmmm, Baby…" Booth pulled her back toward him and kissed her on the nose. Entwined again, they stayed for some time, choosing to slip into sleep again to let the morning ebb away.

As they lay quietly together, and allowed themselves to drift off, both Booth and Brennan had the same thought. _What if we could turn back the clock and relive those moments? What might have changed?_

* * *

 ** _Off we go, chapter 1 to follow!_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Blooming FF_net, no-one seemed to be able to post stories for the best part of yesterday! Anyway, seems to be fixed now.**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, followed and favourited. I'm so pleased so many people enjoyed the concept and prologue I hope the next chapter does not disappoint!**

* * *

Booth found himself in a familiar place – under his sink, his partner at his side. The fact that he didn't remember being there just seconds before was somewhat of a surprise, although bizarrely (and luckily for him) he knew the exact conversation they'd been having.

He was bought to his senses by Brennan's indignance.

"My watch, Booth?"

The plumbing exercise undertaken by Booth and Brennan had, unfortunately, been futile. During a protracted period of ineffectual floundering on Booth's part as he tried to switch off the water again and escape from under his kitchen sink, Brennan had managed to free herself and was sitting on Booth's kitchen floor now sporting a look out of a 1980s Robert Palmer video. Her hair was wet and slicked back in the pony-tail that had remained in place as the water spurted out uncontrollably. Her soaked blouse, only making her drenched upper half even more uncomfortable, clung to her body in a way that meant that Booth couldn't take his eyes off her. As he finally pulled out from under the sink, he tried to avert his gaze, he really did, but there she was, looking absolutely edible, her bra visible through the now translucent material only adding to his already heightened feelings after their intimate conversation whilst they'd attempted to fix the pipe. He froze for a few moments before coming to his senses as he noted her distinctly unimpressed expression. He put up a hand in apology.

Again, she asked.

"Booth? My watch, please?"

"Bones, it's a Rolex, I can't believe it's not water-resistant."

"Well, I don't want to take any chances. It is a Rolex."

"So you've already stated." Brennan glared harder at Booth. "OK, Ok. let me get you a towel."

"Please." Her response was more than a little snappy.

"Just a second." He scrambled up and headed to his laundry closet to get a spare towel for her, pulling his own wet t-shirt off as he did and throwing it in the adjacent basket. As he thumbed through the pile to find something he felt was appropriately fluffy enough for her, he paused to consider their words under the sink from a few minutes before. He remembered so clearly, they'd definitely had one of those moments again. He'd felt a surge of electricity between them in such close quarters, and the way she'd looked at him when they were still working on the pipe - Brennan's smile had gone all the way to her eyes and she could have quite easily had had him collapsed into a puddle of boneless goo in mere seconds. He was entirely hers. If only she knew it. If only he let her.

Despite their discussion, there had been one big secret that he kept from her. The one he'd entirely lied about just weeks before, and he'd lied about again just then through plain-old omission:

"I love you… in an ' _attagirl_ ' way."

Those words had haunted him ever since they'd come out of his mouth. Once again, he'd put a totally unnecessary barrier between them, another opportunity wasted to start the rest of his life with the woman of his dreams. Indeed, in this case, it hadn't been hyperbole, she really was. Aside from their shared story about the lab, he'd carried on dreaming about her every time he'd slept after she'd departed for her dig, mostly a continuation of the original dream through her pregnancy and the birth of their baby. It had been wonderful, and each time he'd woken up disappointed that it wasn't the lucid reality he'd experienced, but moreover, she had gone, once assured of his future wellbeing by the medical staff. They'd not spoken about the coma dream much, other than established that what Brennan had written and read for Booth was indeed what he'd experienced. He wondered if she'd run away once she'd realised just how powerful her words had been… but why would she write it all in the first place?

He smiled to himself as he realised the Inception-like state he was in with this dream within a dream - or whatever his brain thought this was; before realising the problem was that it had all been quite confusing since he'd woken up from his coma - what was real, what were figments of their collective imagination. Anger welled up inside him at his inability to delineate between the two, and in frustration, he slammed his free hand against the closet door he'd just closed.

Meantime, Brennan was still in the kitchen, unsuccessfully trying to salvage her blouse from needing a full drying cycle. As she wrung out the tea towel she'd been blotting, no, more like smothering over herself, for the third time, she gave up and instead unbuttoned and peeled off her shirt, leaving her just in her bra. Quite frankly she was happier to be a little less dressed but more comfortable, however much Booth's sensibilities were likely to be offended. She shivered a little as the cold air hit her newly uncovered skin, goose-bumps appearing where the wetted material had left it damp. She figured it was probably the physiological reaction, yet, she hadn't been immune to the look Booth had given her as he'd reappeared from under the sink, the five or six seconds frozen into what had felt like an epoch, where his eyes had darkened as they roamed her form up and down, unable to stop his instincts. He himself had also been drenched and she was also acutely aware at how his own t-shirt left little to the imagination in its current state. However, it being Booth, and knowing their past history, Brennan put it down to nothing more than a standard heterosexual male response to appropriate stimuli. She did her best to shake off the unnerving feelings that Booth's reaction had triggered in herself and steeled her features from nonplussed to suitably unimpressed.

"You OK, Booth? Brennan called from down the hall as she heard the thump as he punched the door.

"Sure," he responded, "Just a sec." He shook his wrist to reduce the pain as much as he could. Having taken what he felt would be the softest towel in the carefully folded pile, he diverted via his bedroom, grabbing a spare t-shirt for himself that he immediately pulled on, and another for her.

"Oh!" Booth was horrified to find her top half covered only by the simple white bra she still wore. "Um, here you go. I'm sorry." He handed her the towel and the t-shirt, trying not to look at her directly, lest he was thumped for ogling or objectifying or whatever other 'o' word was appropriate in that scenario. He angled away from her slightly as she took the clothing from him to examine it.

"Thanks. Hey! It's Foreigner!" She smiled at the large eponymous logo on the T-shirt. She became aware of his discomfort. "Booth, you know it's just underwear. It's not like you've not seen me in swimwear before. This is just the same." She grinned at him as she rubbed down her shoulders and sternum with the towel, amused that to him it clearly _wasn't_ the same as the two of them splashing about with Parker at her communal pool. She had to admit that she wasn't usually this underdressed alone with him, and especially not in such an intimate situation. This was not helping his comfort levels at all and she noted how he physically squirmed, so she changed topic. "What are you going to do about the pipes?" His eyes darted around the kitchen to anything but his partner, eventually settling on a very interesting looking spot on the adjacent wall.

"I'll get the Super to take a look. It's just confusing you know?" As he spoke, Brennan pulled out her ponytail and began towel-drying her hair. "All this stuff that I thought I knew. Everything… everything I know has changed. Pardon the pun, but I can't get my head around it." He leaned back against the kitchen worktop and shook his head. This really was confusing ands suddenly the air felt laden with tension.

"You'll get it all back Booth. It just takes time." He felt her hand on his forearm. He looked down and then up to her face as they made eye contact at last. Booth was relieved that in the intervening period, she'd slipped on the t-shirt. It was wholly too big for her and he couldn't help but think she now looked cute as well as sexy as hell. He thought he'd be OK once she'd put a top on, but it made no difference. Just her innocent expression of support was a straight shot into his heart. He was long gone, and that glimpse of her at that moment was just another bullet to add to the pile already lodged in his chest. Booth sighed and took a moment to pause. The usual rounded comfortable silence between them became sharp and edgy as she waited for him to decide what to say next. And to hell with it, he was going to say something.

"After you left for Guatemala, I kept dreaming. Every time I rested. Even after I left the hospital. You were… we… we were married, Bones. We were having a baby together. I'm still trying to get my head around the fact that that's not real." Booth didn't know where he was going with this himself, but he found himself just letting out these revelations. It may have been a cliché, but he could easily equate the burst pipe to his own feelings. There was a part of him, mostly forgotten in the few minutes since he'd arrived here that knew this would all turn out OK in the end, but in the meantime, the force of the feelings coming back to him from this time period were overwhelming to the exclusion of any rational thought.

"Did you want it to be real, Booth?" He was shocked at her question.

"What do you think, Bones?" Good God, this woman was frustrating at times. Of course, he wanted it to be true. He'd wanted nothing less for years. He gave her a look that said as much, and even Brennan could interpret his expression easily enough. She hid the growing truth between them behind her usual panic and deflection.

"I think you had some trauma from your operation."

"But you wrote that story. I just lived that life you created for us."

"I…" her eyes fell away, embarrassed that her emotions had now been exposed. He gently crooked his finger under her chin in the same way he'd done some years before and nudged her head up to meet his eyes again, gazing at her with a pleasing smile.

"Why did you write that story, Temperance?"

"I don't know!" This conversation had suddenly become horribly intense. Her eyes were filling with tears as reality caught up with her as much as it had with him.

"Hey. Don't cry" he said, softly. "It's OK. You can tell me, Temperance." Her eyes were now red as she attempted to hold in the inevitable. She might as well have been King Alfred trying to hold back the tide. Brennan gulped in some air before she spoke again.

"Do you remember what I wrote just as you were waking up?" He shook his head.

"I don't think so."

"I…" she took another breath of air. "I said: _The thought of losing so much control over personal happiness is unbearable. That's the burden. Like wings, they have weight, we feel that weight on our backs, but they are a burden that lifts us_ -" Brennan paused for breath, but before she could continue, he interrupted her with a slightly quizzical tone:

"Burdens that allow us to fly?" They both looked surprised at his recollection, but Booth's expression changed to one of elation, met by his partner's as they realised they were on the same page. She leant in and brushed her lips against his. He moved his hands into her damp hair and deepened the kiss as her arms slipped around his waist, the softness and intensity of her touch sending him into a delicious spiral of happiness.

And that's when it all went dark…


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello again and a Very Happy New Year to everyone! I am so sorry (especially to FiB) that I have not kept to my publishing schedule, real life getting in the way (as usual, I should know better by now) and I didn't want to submit something half-cocked. Thanks to all again who were kind enough to review, I will try and get round to some individual thank yous, but please know that I do really appreciate reviews, people following and favouriting this, and any of my stories.**

 **I should also chuck in ye olde disclaimer at this point: I don't own Bones, etc. etc. etc.**

 _ **One of my favourite episodes of all time. A hard challenge keeping it T, lots of fun to write though…**_

* * *

Brennan first looked around the small, cluttered room and then stared down at her clothes. This was a familiar outfit, she realised, as she examined the tightly-fitting corset leaving little to the imagination, with sheer fishnets and high heels completing the ensemble. She concluded that she was probably (a) dreaming, and (b) back in Texas, which meant they were undercover at the circus. Her heart leapt – this had been one of her favourite cases to date, not least of which the satisfaction that no murder had actually been committed, not to mention the whole experience of having gone into character as 'Buck and Wanda Moosejaw'. Human kindness had actually won out for once. She wondered where her subconscious had put her along the timeline of this case…

Despite six weeks of prior experience during one of her post-grad papers, and a thorough briefing by the FBI field office team (and Sweets, who had been surprisingly helpful); one thing that Temperance Brennan had not been entirely prepared for was the size of the trailer she and Booth had been asked to share. It was *tiny*, and came with its own set of logistical and mental challenges.

Whilst the partners had developed a good working relationship, by now to the point of synergy, their previous excursion into the world of undercover work had involved a spacious hotel room, a ginormous bed with a handy bolster to keep them both from temptation, and plenty of room to escape from each other should the need arise. However, as she climbed into the trailer for the first time, Brennan realised that she was going to need every ounce of self-restraint to prevent the various types of tension she currently shared with her partner spilling over into a horrible, messy series of fights and God-knew what else, with no such escape route. They would, essentially, be in the middle of nowhere, with only the circus folk for company.

The funny thing was that as Sweets had noted with a raised eyebrow, they had both been a little too excited to join the circus in the first place; and once their act was under way, Brennan been rather too into it than was entirely healthy. The sensible part of Brennan had known this, but a long-repressed part of her had, particularly to Booth's surprise, risen to the surface in a way that he found very endearing but also alarmingly arousing, and left him permanently battling with his self-control. Albeit with her usual professionalism on the case itself, Brennan was now really all about the act and found herself extending her trust in Booth way over and above what was probably appropriate behaviour for regular work partners. That fact had not been lost on the team that when it came to it, and aside from some notably initial weak protestations from Booth, he'd had not really made any effort to dissuade her. Cam, Hodgins and Angela had briefly discussed just how small that trailer was, and Sweets' comment during their performance was not lost on the squints, who shared a knowing look, with the exception of Mr Nigel-Murray, who was mostly oblivious to anything that couldn't be found in the pages of Encyclopaedia Britannica or Wikipedia.

They'd solved the case easily enough in the end, but what had been particularly challenging was the sleeping arrangement of that three days, especially with the sexually charged nature of their roles impinging on their partnership. There really wasn't anywhere else to lie down in their trailer – the chairs in the kitchen-diner area were not made for sleeping on – nor for sitting any length of time on, as they were quite uncomfortable; and there was simply not enough room on the floor for anyone to get comfy. The prep team, aware of the unresolved sexual tension between the partners that had become legendary across FBI headquarters, delighted at showing Booth and Brennan this information with some glee, as the partners realised with slowly forming horror that there was no alternative in these cramped accommodations. Independently, modest pyjamas had been bought by both to ensure neither would be sending out any of the wrong signals to the other. Unfortunately for them, it would take a lot more than pyjamas to succeed in managing that, as they would discover.

The first night had been, simply, very odd, and ultimately bizarrely erotic. What Booth and Brennan hadn't been told by their prep team was that the mattress, though thoroughly fumigated when the mobile home had been initially purchased, was still very old, and dipped considerably in the middle. When they finally climbed into the bed after what had been a long day, both in their almost matching pyjamas, they rolled straight into each other, ending up nose to nose and chest to chest.

"Well, this is awkward." Booth looked apologetic and a little uncomfortable at their proximity, but Brennan couldn't help but smirk at their predicament. They stayed in that position a few seconds longer than they should, eyes locked on each other waiting for the other to move, before Booth ventured to suggest a solution before the temptation to kiss his partner became too great.

"Um, maybe we should try and move."

"Back to back?"

"Yeah, let's try that." So they wriggled and squirmed their way until they were facing away from each other, eventually settling on 'butt-to-butt' as they tried to get comfortable.

"Are you comfortable, Booth?"

"Not entirely," he admitted. "You?"

"Not really. It feels weird." Brennan paused in thought for a moment. "I do have a suggestion though."

"You do?"

"Yes. I think we should... what is that term? 'Fork.'"

"Spoon!" Booth choked out.

"Yes, well they both allow the cutlery to nest appropriately. Anyway, you can give me a guy hug."

"A guy hug? _**Now**_?" Booth was certain he would be going to hell with the images immediately and involuntarily forming in his mind as several long-standing sexual fantasies started an impromptu show-reel in his head.

"This seems like the perfect time. We need a practical solution to this situation."

"That's true," he spluttered.

"We are close friends, you can give me a guy hug in the spoon configuration, so we can both get to sleep. I mean," she considered, "You'd do it for any close friend, right?" _He so wouldn't._

"Sure!" He was sure his voice had gone up two octaves.

...And so they settled, Brennan urging some encouragement to bring her partner closer, whilst he edged toward her nervously, trying to keep his nether regions as far away from her as possible, leaving his feet lurching out diagonally from the bed. Surprisingly though, the ploy worked and they soon slept soundly, although by morning his feet had sought out the warmth of the blankets and they woke up with him pressed very firmly against her, head to toe, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination when she stirred first the next morning.

Brennan was no idiot, she'd known exactly what she was doing. She wasn't one for snuggling in general - her general attitude towards emotion-based sexual relationships precluded that behaviour; but she had occasionally enjoyed a similar cuddle with Sully whilst they'd dated. Winding Booth up had been a bonus. The state of the mattress gave her an opportunity to do something she would not usually allow herself. She wasn't about to admit her real feelings for Booth to herself, let alone anyone else, but she sneakily took the time to relish the few moments she had to revel in the arms (and body) of her partner before he woke, happily snuggling into him further, both sets of their hands clasped together in front of her, his big strong arms wrapped around her protectively. Booth clearly hadn't read the script, as when he began to stir some minutes later, his first instinct was to hold her tighter and nuzzle the back of her neck as he breathed in her welcoming and familiar scent. That only encouraged Brennan further, and when she gently pushed her behind against her partner to get even closer to him, he suddenly woke up a lot quicker, pulling away from her so quickly he almost fell out of bed.

"Bones! You can't do that!"

"It's a perfectly natural response, Booth, nothing to be ashamed of."

"Bones! It's you! And, er, me!"

"I was hardly taking advantage of, and besides, Buck and Wanda are a married couple. I was just staying in role." With her back still to him, he couldn't see her smirk. Booth shook his head.

"I'm going to have a shower." _A very cold shower._

* * *

Their day was filled with questioning interested parties, and making preparations for their act that evening and all sexual tension was mostly pushed to the back burner. Their performance went well, though Brennan couldn't help but be disheartened at Booth's reluctance for a repeat performance. A small, nagging part of her really did want to run away to the circus with him forever, and she couldn't entirely hide her disappointment when he pointed out that they had to arrest their key suspect.

As Brennan stood contemplating herself in the mirror, Booth burst through the door, a bottle of some local brew in his hand.

"I called the Dallas field office. They're short-staffed, a couple of Senate big-wigs over from DC, so all spare man-power going to their protection service. Magnum is low priority and we're still here, so they'll pick him up in the morning. so he won't go far." _So that's where I came in._ She smiled to herself at the realisation.

Booth gave Brennan a broad smile, not realising Brennan's knowledge of the dream state they were a part of. "After I called the office, I drove down to the town, found some liquor for us to celebrate the end of the case, seeing as we're nowhere near The Founding Fathers. Actually," he waved the bottle in front of her, "It wasn't so cheap, has some hipster label, but I have no idea how good it's gonna be." He shrugged his shoulders at her light heartedly, she grinned at him in return.

"I'll get the glasses."

They sat on the uncomfortable chairs as Booth poured out two liberally large fingers of the locally produced bourbon into each glass.

"Here's to Boris and Natasha."

"And Buck and Wanda!" They clinked glasses before both downing their shots.

"Hey, this stuff isn't bad, Booth." Brennan took a closer look at the label. "It says it's an _artisanal bourbon made from a specially cultivated wild yeast_."

"Yep, Hipster liquor, but not bad." Booth poured out two more glasses. "Here's to us. Best crime fighting unit in the FBI!"

"To the best crime fighting unit in the FBI." Brennan enthusiastically agreed. A couple further shots were imbibed and eye contact was locked on as the alcohol flowed further.

"How are your feet?" Asked Booth. Brennan pulled an appropriately discomforted expression.

"Actually a little sore. I was not conditioned for that high wire, although ultimately that fact did help solve the case."

Booth decided, now feeling a little emboldened by his mildly intoxicated state, that this chance to actively touch his partner with her permission was too good an opportunity to pass up, especially with an bone fide excuse.

"Would you like a foot rub?" he asked in his most innocent voice.

"Oh, that would be nice, thank you." She slipped off her heels, leaving her in just the fishnet tights.

"We should probably move…" and he thumbed over his shoulder to the bed. "These chairs are terrible." This part he hadn't really thought through. He gulped as he looked down at her nylon-covered legs. _Time to prep the super-human self-control once again_.

"It would be certainly more comfortable for us both."

They made their way to the back of the trailer and sat on the bed, Booth's back to the pillows and Brennan next to him, but turned with her torso and legs at an angle so her feet were on his lap.

"I should really be doing this for you Booth", Brennan contemplated with some melancholy.

"Don't be silly, Bones."

"I know your history," Brennan reminded him.

"Well, you can save a foot rub for me another time." With that, Booth began to gently caress her left foot through the material.

"I'm going to hold you to that," she smiled gently at him, "Oh, that feels good." He grinned, and continued, massaging first one foot and then the other, varying the pressure and movement as he did so, especially working on the muscles over her cuboid and navicular. He began to move his hands up to her ankle a little, running his fingers over her calcaneus and talus. He'd been studying her studiously, noting the surprisingly pink nail varnish she'd applied to her toes and generally well-kept state of her feet, but glanced up at her a couple of times to check she wasn't in pain, the second of which gave him a quite a shock as he took in the blissful expression now fixed on her face, along with her closed eyes and gentle moans as he worked his magic. Whilst this was exactly what he was aiming for, the reality, along with the alcohol they consumed, was even more show-stopping than he could have expected. He stopped like he'd just caught a hot potato in his bare hands.

"Ow!" Brennan yelped as he dropped her foot. "Booth? You stopped!" There was a pause between them, whilst in the background, the noises of the circus continued around them outside, though she vaguely remembered that they wouldn't realise until the morning that it was the sound of dismantling and packing.

"Well, I… You were just…" he looked a little sheepish. "I'm sorry. I was a little taken aback. Are you OK?"

"Yes. Thank you." She stared at him, well aware of the intimacy of the situation, especially now that she knew his true feelings for her, then and in their normal world of some three years later.

"Do you want me to stop? I mean, it's ended up being a little more intimate than I had planned. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. "

"No, you were doing just fine."

"Did you want me to stop?"

"Not unless you want to. Another drink?"

"Sure. Thank you." Brennan reached around to get the bottle and lost her balance as she twisted, ending up with her head on the bed and her legs up in the air in an ungainly fashion, the bottle still steadfastly sitting on the sill running around the edge of the trailer.

"Woah there! You OK?" Booth grabbed her legs to steady her, his fingers clutching the outside of her thighs, trying not to concentrate on the soft supple skin he found he was holding.

"I'm fine, Booth! Let me just sit up, try to get the bottle again." He held on to her she she leveraged herself, shifting her bottom until she was almost on his lap and using her core strength, pulling herself up again. This time she turned successfully and grabbed the bottle. She took a large swig and passed it over to him. As let go of one leg to take it from her, she felt the loss of the warmth of his hand on her skin and let out a small sigh. He took a gulp of the drink himself and reached out to put the bottle to one side. As he did so, her automatic response was to wrap her arms around his neck to steady herself as he moved.

"Oh." He was surprised at the action.

"Oh." She found herself gazing into a mirror image of amusement and surprise. Their eyes simultaneously moved from the others', to lips, and back again. As if in perfect synchronicity, they leaned into each other at the same moment, mouths meeting in a searing kiss, Booth's left hand still on her thigh, whilst the right had found its way to her back. After a few moments, he pulled back, their combined breaths short, their foreheads resting together.

"Bones," he panted, "We should stop. We've been drinking, the act was pretty full-on, the clothes kinda sexy…" He looked down at her heaving bosom right in front of him. "Scratch that, very sexy. It's totally reasonable we should have, um, what do you usually say... biological urges…?" When this had originally happened, they'd smiled at each other awkwardly, agreed to write the whole thing off and changed into their pyjamas for another awkward night of 'guy hug spooning' and an even more awkward morning after, along with the disappearance of the circus itself. However, Brennan, knowing that in this fantasy world she didn't need to repeat the very definition of insanity, allowed herself to do what she'd wanted to do three years before.

Brennan glanced down at his lips again as if to warn him of her motives, before leaning back in and kissing him slowly and sensually for a few moments, before leaving her lips right next to his as she spoke.

"What if I didn't want you to stop, Booth? What if I told you that the last thing I wanted to do was stop kissing you and whatever else it led to?"

"What about 'biological urges' though? I can't do a one-night stand with you, Bones. You of all people. You're too important to me."

"I don't want a one night stand either, Booth." He looked flabbergasted and delighted all at the same time, an expression Brennan hoped she would give him many times again in the future.

"Does this mean what I think it does?"

"Yes." She beamed at him in way that there was no room for mis-interpretation...

* * *

An hour later, clothes strewn all over the floor (not that Brennan was complaining about where Booth left his underwear at this point), Brennan's fishnets well beyond repair, they lay sprawled in bed under the comforter, Brennan's head on her partner's chest, his arms wrapped tenderly around her. He kissed the top of her head.

"Now do you still think I lack imagination?" He laughed.

"I didn't say that."

"Yes you did. You said I was unimaginative." They were still capable of some first-class bickering, even after mind-blowing sex.

"Only for the act," she was quick to clarify. "Clearly you've proven you are far from imaginative.. in other areas…" she chuckled, and she took the opportunity to peck him on the lips again. He took the opportunity to change their positions so he was leaning over her slightly.

"Steady!" He chided her with some humour to his voice. "You mentioned we needed more flair," and used that moment to start kissing down her neck and on to her shoulders.

"We can practice the flair." She gave an uncharacteristic giggle. "Would you like to practice the flair now?"

"That would be an excellent idea…" he mumbled as he headed under the blankets. She gasped and giggled again...

Another while later, Brennan was feeling very satisfied as Booth slept soundly next to her. As she fell asleep in his arms, she didn't notice she was being pulled away into the darkness…

* * *

 **More to follow... ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello. I'm back. Sorry for the delay, I genuinely got a bit stuck in the middle of this one, took a bit of un-sticking to sort myself out. I also decided not to take part in the Valentine's Day exchange as I didn't want to put any more pressure upon myself when I have this to focus on at the moment (although I may post something up depending on how quickly I get the next chapter of this up.) The good news is that I'm already nearly half way through the next one and know where it is going next!**

 **I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed, followed and favorited, especially** ** _Gailuvspurple_** **, who has given some great ideas in their review. Thank you!** A **lso, as ever, big thanks to Jen, my beta.**

 **If no-one minds, I think I'm going to write at least a couple of extra chapters more than I originally planned, actually having quite a lot of fun writing these.**

 **Probably extra important in this chapter to chuck in the "I don't own Bones" disclaimer, alongside the "I have only borrowed the dialogue and I am not profiting from it" as there is a fair amount direct from the episode.**

 **It's "guess the episode" time, again...**

* * *

One moment, Booth was enjoying the feel of Brennan's lips on his and her arms snaking around him in a very un-partnerly way, the weight of emotional expectation just starting to lift, when he had the sensation of being physically torn away from her into an inky blackness. He blinked as he tried to work out if his eyes were open or closed, and in the next moment, he was standing alone outside Brennan's office holding a bound set of case notes, wearing… what the hell? He looked at down at his blue lab coat, buttoned-up checked shirt stuffed into a very unpleasant pair of trousers, and felt the glasses on his nose. He allowed himself a grin when he realised who would be walking through the door in mere seconds and what they would be wearing.

"Don't you have to put on your costume?" Brennan called through the door, just left ajar.

"Already did. I got a profile of the killer from Sweets."

"You mean Doctor Sweets."

"Well, it's only theory, Bones, but it's what he's best at. I mean… he's only twelve." His eyes flicked across the page. "Sweets says the killer's definitely a male…" Man, the writing on that report is small - Booth decided that maybe he needed to get his eyes tested after this case.

"Oh, Greg is a male." Brennan called from behind the door.

"Ow, no… Greg and Lola worked their sick little thing together. Sweets says the killer works alone… has a respectable blue-collar job… in his public life he's into saving people, he's unmarried, oh, he has a police or military background."

"You do realise that Sweets is describing you, right?" stated Brennan matter-of-factly as she appeared through their frosted glass door and came to stand next to him, slightly baffled at his costume. At first, he didn't see her as he still had his head in the report, but when he registered her voice, Booth glanced away from his paper to meet his partner's gaze, and was simply blown away. Although he was by nature a gentleman, he was also a plain old heterosexual male, and Booth couldn't help himself from a full-blown, full-frame check-out. He had always had a healthy physical appreciation of his partner – for example, he'd chosen her black Roxy dress with great success (she'd taken the hint and subsequently purchased the even hotter red one she'd worn during his fight), but right now, Brennan made that look like a nun's habit. She was an absolute knock-out. Hair teased back, a lot more make up than she usually wore, legs up to her armpits and, woah, her, um, assets left nothing to the imagination. He was spellbound and couldn't help but leak out a reaction.

"Wow."

"How do I look?" He allowed himself another quick peek, but recovered quickly. He was going to have to store up a lot of surreptitious looks in the comIng hours.

"Are you kiddi… good, 'wonder-ful', geddit?"

"Yeah." She was distinctly unimpressed with his attempt at humour, although Booth himself felt that under the circumstances of extreme distraction, he'd been pretty clever.

"Because you're Wonder Woman."

"I know." She eyed him up and down with disdain and placed her hands on her hips. "What are you supposed to be?"

"Oh, I'm a nerd squint. See!" Booth put on a very nasally voice and whipped out the sort of calculator that hadn't been used since the dawn of the computer. "What is the rationale behind that conclusion?" He was very pleased with himself; Brennan less so.

"That's not what they look or sound like!" She marched around the corner with purpose, Booth scuttling along behind her, still, apparently, in character.

"You mean 'we', that's not what we look or sound like."

"OK…" Brennan almost sounded amused.

"You see what I did there, I corrected you, you know, in character, as a squint!" Booth was gleeful. Brennan rolled her eyes at him as she proceeded to engage Zach (the back end of a cow) who had further information for them.

In the back of Brennan's mind as she, Hodgins and Zach continued their assessment of the data they had thus far, was the brief look of awe that Booth had given her when she'd appeared through the doorway. Was he checking her out? She tried not to think too hard about it.

When they entered the subway maintenance area, Booth got a look at Brennan's gun. His first thought was, 'where the hell did she keep that?' and he couldn't help but vocalise his thoughts. It was huge, and he'd certainly not seen any sign of it previously. Despite the potential danger of their situation, all the wrong thoughts immediately popped into his head and he found himself having to compartmentalise very quickly before he was in a position of some embarrassment. That said, Brennan really didn't have a clue what to do with the weapon and Booth hoped his wasn't a euphemism for anything else as he unloosed the lock and chain she'd been desperate to shoot.

Pacing carefully around the building, they'd soon realised who their killer was.

"You should wear a lab coat at all times" mused Brennan out loud as Booth's inner squint showed himself. Brennan found herself wondering whether those same thoughts she now knew Booth had about her could be replicated the other way around. She'd thought about peeling off his jacket... gun holster… but him in lab gear? There was something quite arousing about that. She snapped out of it as they found the next victim screaming behind a locked door, and then in attempting to emulate her heroine, Brennan managed to shoot her partner. It was a freak accident, her bracelet acting in true Amazonian style and ricocheting into her partner in a grazing blow that lucky left him with only a minor flesh wound. As they opened the door, they were met with somewhat of a surprise and Brennan found herself shrieking like a little girl.

Snakes, why did it have to be snakes… Once she'd jumped up onto the nearest surface, Brennan found herself frozen on the spot, and no amount of logic could persuade her otherwise, not at least until Booth offered his slightly wounded body for her to climb upon.

"It seems I'm not entirely in control of my actions" she yelped.

"Just get onto my back."

If Brennan hadn't been so petrified, and the situation not so grave, she'd have enjoyed the sensation of being wholly attached to her partner, her legs wrapped around him, chest against his back and arms around his neck. Unfortunately, she had no time to make the most of the situation as they came across the teenage girl simultaneously screaming and cowering in the corner of the room. Professionalism and the bravery that made them, well - them - took over and it wasn't until hours later that Brennan came to appreciate what she'd had. Having taken what was a defending shot with her gun, to keep the killer at bay, Booth was still not a happy man when it came to Brennan wielding that particular gun, and they quickly swapped over as Brennan rapidly realised she really had no idea what to do with a weapon of that size. Brennan's braver instincts kicked in enough to keep her charge safe, and Booth, despite another grazing gun shot wound, managed to get a single good shot and took out the murderer.

* * *

With Booth suitably patched up by the paramedics, who'd arrived along with the back-up, when Booth and Brennan finally returned to the lab, everyone had left.

"Where is everybody?"

"Well, at the party, I guess."

"We could still go."

"Aw, we look like hell."

"It's a Halloween party. We could be Wonder Woman and, um," she tapped him on the arm, "What's Superman's secret identity?"

"Clark Kent."

"Yes, we could be Wonder Woman and Clark Kent after a really, really bad date," she chuckled. Actually, despite being covered in what could only be described as genuine grease and dirt, she still looked stunning. Booth tried not to think too hard about her mussed hair getting that way through other activities… He recovered.

"Yeah, bad date, because… you shot me!" Booth wasn't going to let it drop that easily.

"It was only a flesh wound and you dropped me on my head!"

"After you shot me. I think, I got ya on this one, OK, Wonder Woman?" He strained as he sat down, the effects of the paramedic triage on his wounds wearing off. She winced a little as she watched his motion. Her voice softened.

"I'm sorry you had to kill someone. I know you hate that."

"Yeah, he had it coming." He smiled at her in gratitude. Sometimes, underneath the bluster, she was that awesome. She knew what it meant to him to hear that.

"You hate it. I'm sorry that happened to you."

"We saved the girl. It's a pretty good date." Brennan gazed at her parter admiringly at his stoicism.

"Except not really a date."

"I know."

"It was work, not a date."

"Really, really hard work."

"And we're not really Wonder Woman and Clark Kent, we're Brennan and Booth."

"Look, you're the one who brought up the date analogy." She could tell that he wasn't being terribly serious and was teasing her a little. They shared one of their special smiles, before Brennan broke the silence.

"You hungry?"

"Yeah."

"Me too."

"Let's go and grab a bite to eat."

As they got up to leave, Brennan span around and around, enjoying the sensation of being Wonder Woman for just a little bit longer. Booth caught her for just a second, amused by her momentary childish behaviour – this was not a side of her he saw very often and although he outwardly ignored it, inside he was charmed by her girlishness, but didn't let the small internal smile he was holding slip outwards.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Nothing." Her response bordered on indignant.

As they left the lab, they discussed dinner plans. Not like a date at all, mused Brennan, understanding the heavy irony from her position of knowing what the future held for them. After several weeks with Booth, the coins had been metaphorically been removed from her eyes (she knew that one being somewhat of an anthropological commonality across many cultures) and she now understood many of those opportunities they'd had to blow that line away somewhat earlier.

"So, where would you like to go? The diner?"

"You know…" she pondered for a moment, "We haven't been to Wong Fu's for a while."

"That's true."

As they arrived they saw their favourite dining booth was free and immediately sat down. Sid gave them a welcoming smile and a nod, and soon arrived with something tofu-y for Brennan, beef in black bean sauce for Booth, and some Mi Krop for them to share. They sat close as they devoured their food, Brennan being especially careful not to drop the crispy noodles down her considerable décolleté, Booth mentally willing her to do so. Sid sauntered over some time into their meal.

"Not that we're complaining, but this is Mi Krop – it's Thai, Sid. I thought this was a Chinese restaurant?"

"Sometimes you have to try something a little different as a means to an end," replied Sid, somewhat enigmatically. "Look at you two in your costumes." Sid smiled at his favourite customers. "Dr Brennan's I get…" he briefly glanced at Brennan in acknowledgement before he looked his friend up and down, "But who the hell are you supposed to be, Booth?"

"I'm a squint!' he put on his nasal, reedy voice he'd used when Brennan had first lain eyes on him.

"Although, interjected Brennan, "I posited that Booth actually looks like Clark Kent, Superman's alter-ego. We look like them after a bad date – Clark Kent and Wonder Woman that is. Not our actual selves," she clarified, just in case Sid hadn't got it by insinuation.

"It's the glasses," Booth wiggled them up and down on his nose.

"You know," considered Sid, "that works. And they are both DC Universe Justice League members."

"Yep. I'm more a Green Lantern kinda guy though," chuckled Booth. Sid leaned down towards them conspiratorially:

"Something else to let you know," he spoke quietly, "Superman and Wonder Woman are a thing. Check out the fan fiction." Sid raised an eyebrow at them before walking away with a grin neither could see, as Booth and Brennan exchanged yet another set of awkward smiles.

"I know what that is," whispered Brennan, fixing Booth with a strong gaze. "People write stories, or create graphical examples of characters from their favourite pop culture and entertainment sources that they share on various internet sites and forums. For example, TV shows, books, movies… especially popular is the 'shipping' aspect, that is in context for 'relationship' of certain character combinations, whether in canon or allowing alternative combinations such as same sex or unexpected couplings. It fills in the gap between the established canon already published and wish fulfilment on the part of the fan author and their followers. I myself am aware that Kathy Reichs and Andy Ryan are subject to a considerable amount of fan fiction, although my publisher has advised me not to read it in case a fan author claims copyright for any ideas in my books. This way, my conscience remains absolutely clear and I would pass any lie detector tests in the event of a law suit." Brennan tried to keep her voice flat, but was hoping that Booth understood the link she was trying to make for them both. When this scenario had occurred originally, they'd shared the awkward smile but neither had allowed themselves to say anything more after Sid's comment.

"I know what fan fiction is, Bones." What Brennan didn't know was that Booth was more than familiar with that particular fandom, not being bound by the same constraints, especially with Brennan having time and time again rebuffed suggestions that Andy was based on him. His eyes flicked back down to his food as he had to break eye contact with her, so many were all the thoughts ripping through his head at that moment. "You know Sid didn't mean anything by that, right?" he attempted to deflect.

"Yes." Brennan sounded genuinely disappointed. "I sensed he was teasing us. He knows everyone thinks we're a couple."

The partners continued to eat the rest of the meal, though much less was spoken as the partners both contemplated what Sid had said, despite their outward mutual agreement that his words had been light-hearted. They would grab glances at each other whilst the other was navigating chopsticks and food. Brennan managed not to spill any noodles down herself, much to Booth's disappointment. They spoke occasionally between bites, but the mood had changed a little as both remained in deep thought.

* * *

By the time Booth drove Brennan back to her apartment, it was heading towards midnight.

"You stopping for a beer?"

"You sure? It's getting kinda late."

"Sure."

As they rode the elevator, Booth ended up standing behind Brennan, willing himself not to look down at her satin-encased rear. He failed miserably, and continued to fail as he followed her down the corridor. She let them into her apartment and went straight to the fridge, from where she produced two cold beers.

"Here," she passed one over to him.

"Thanks." They clinked bottles and glances, and each took a hearty glug, eyes finally making contact. "So…"

"So…" Brennan hesitated before speaking up, her eyes locked on Booth's. It's now or never. "About what Sid said earlier… did you think about it at all?"

"A little." He lied. He'd thought about little else, even on the drive home. "You?"

"Yes. I considered it." They had edged slightly closer to one another in the preceding moments.

"Do you think Wonder Woman and Superman-"

"Clark Kent," interjected Brennan.

"OK, Clark Kent. By that rhetoric, it should be Diana Prince and Clark Kent. Do you think that they could be together?"

"I think it could work out." Brennan surprised herself, but of course, she was fully aware that part of herself knew how she and Booth would eventually work out.

"You sound like an Eight-Ball," Booth laughed as they edged closer still.

"Oooh, I know what that means! Russ had one of those!" They enjoyed the shared cultural experience for a moment.

"Honestly," he became more serious again. "Do you think this could work?" He realised his own language had changed slightly, maybe he was no longer talking about Wonder Woman and Superman's alter-egos, either.

"Yes." She smiled at him reassuringly. "I think this could work."

Booth glanced down at Brennan's lips before closing in the gap at the same time she did. They met in the middle, mouths crashing together as strong arms enveloped her waspish waist, long delicate fingers running though the short, buzzed hair of the nape of his neck. Booth felt an explosion of emotions that he was now pleasantly very familiar with as they kissed frantically, her hands soon reaching for zips and buttons, as his found his way to the same area of satin he'd been gazing at longingly in the elevator.

Brennan found herself scooped up, Booth's hands solidly under her ass, her legs and arms wrapped him in almost a mirror of their earlier escapade. But this time they were facing each other and bumping blindly against walls as they somehow found their way to the bedroom.

His shirt now half open, his tie loose and askew, he threw her quite unceremoniously onto the bed, and clambered on after her. Brennan leaned back onto her elbows and grinned salaciously at him as he approached her on all fours, his eyes dark with passion. She pulled him towards her by his tie, and as he went, leaned in to kiss her again, this time aiming for the soft, exposed flesh atop her breasts, and felt himself spiralling away once more.

* * *

 **I feel like I should be doing the Scooby Doo / Wayne's World 'wavy hand/doolidoolidoo' thing at the end of each chapter. Please take it upon yourselves to do that if so inclined.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Very overdue. Apologies. My beta Jen hasn't been well (get well soon, Lovely) so in the interests of time, I've popped this up unbeta'd for now. May have a re-post in due course.**

Brennan found herself in the Ladies' restroom by the Jeffersonian's main hall, staring blankly into a mirror, brain suddenly whirring away as she realised she was no longer snuggled up naked with Booth in their circus trailer. She took stock of her situation. _Low cut black dress with a sweetheart neckline. Pear drop earrings. Hair down, gently curled at the ends._ It came to her quickly enough. _This was about eighteen months ago. This was the Egyptian reception for Anok._ Brennan felt a new surge of emotion as she remembered what that night had almost been.

"Bren?" A voice spoke right by her. Still processing where (and when) she was, Brennan did not respond to Angela, who was standing next to her, casually reapplying her lipstick until her eyes flicked across the mirror to Brennan, and she became aware that her best friend had not moved for some time.

"Earth to Bren!" Angela noted Brennan's lack of riposte. "Sweetie, you OK? You're a million miles away." Angela was now genuinely concerned at her friend's presently gormless expression, the number of times of which she'd seen during their friendship, she could count on one hand. Previously that expression had come with a recollection of something horrible from her past that had been triggered by a specific piece of evidence, or a victim's story.

"Yes, Angela." Brennan heard her voice finally drift back to her friend without really being cognisant she'd uttered a syllable. She smoothed down the front of her dress as she tried to remember what part of the evening she was in. Had she spoken formally yet? Had she almost kissed Booth? She wracked her brains trying to remember when she'd used the restroom that night. "I'm fine, thank you. Just thinking about my speech."

"You're gonna be fine, Sweetie. You're always fine. You blow them away every time because you're a natural storyteller. Besides, you're on in a few minutes, so bash that self-doubt on the head," quipped Angela, nudging Brennan playfully with her shoulder, before following it up with a reassuring squeeze to the same spot. _OK, so that established the element of timeframe. But where was Booth?_

Brennan took a deep breath as Angela took a final look in the mirror, took her by the hand and led her out of the Ladies' toilets. She scoured the room for her partner, noting that he would be somewhat camouflaged by his tuxedo in a sea of such outfits. Brennan smiled to herself at the common analogy of men in tuxedos looking like penguins. She'd once read a University of Melbourne study* that summarised that successful male penguins ' _had the best dance moves, sounded like someone called Issac Hayes (she'd had to look that one up) and was 'slightly burly'_.' That had sounded just like Booth! She'd also read that penguins found their mates and families through recognising their calls through a cacophony of sounds, through what was called 'the cocktail party effect'. It was surprisingly easy for Brennan to find him in the end through just this method as she heard her name mentioned through the sea of white noise, looked for the source, and there he was, talking animatedly with a group from the Egyptian embassy. His eyes locked onto hers and a proud smile graced his face as she ventured over.

"Here she is!", called out a woman in the group whom Brennan recognised as a regular benefactor. "Doctor Brennan, many congratulations on your discovery."

"Thank you. This is a fascinating moment for Egyptian history, we are just custodians of that moment."

"Well, you've changed Egyptian history," another man in the group chimed in, with some admiration. Brennan gave an awkward smile, uncharacteristically looking mildly embarrassed at the plaudits. Seeing her discomfort, Booth politely excused them and ushered her away.

"You wanna go somewhere quiet?"

"Sure." They headed away from the main hall into a corridor. "This way," Brennan took Booth's hand and gently led him along for a few moments to a plain-looking door. She pushed it open and they walked in to an exhibition room. Looking over the steps that led down into the main chamber, they could see the Anok exhibit below.

Meanwhile, somewhere else in the sprawling main hall, Cam was suddenly aware that Brennan was not where she should be, and the key players, minus their anthropologist, were beginning to assemble near the temporary lectern that had been constructed for the official presentation.

"Where's she gone, damnit?", she hissed into Angela's ear, not unkindly, more in panic. Angela looked around for Brennan, only to find no sign of the anthropologist, nor her partner. "The Ambassador's going to speak in a moment, we need to find her." Cam looked more than slightly nervous. She did not want to have to explain where their star turn had snuck off to at the last moment, although noting that Booth was also nowhere to be seen, she suspected that they were probably together, wherever they were. Then Angela had a brainwave.

"I think I know where they've gone. Come with me." The whole group trailed behind her, along the corridor until they too reached a heavy wooden door.

In the meantime, Booth and Brennan had made their way down the stairs to the exhibit.

"Bones, we're not supposed to be down here yet."

"You're with me, Booth, this is my find! You're not going get into trouble. Don't- don't step on that!" Brennan warned him as he almost stepped onto the carefully polished brass plaque that had been inset into the floor.

"This guy is so cool! Aw, so he wasn't trampled by his brother?"

"No. Meti suffered from _osteogenesis imperfecta_ , otherwise known as _Brittle Bone disease_. Meti's fall from his horse killed him. Anok was innocent. His mother was right."

"It only took three thousand years to hear her." Booth looked over to her, his voice dropping slightly deeper. "Aw, you know what, if I was Egypt, I'd throw you a party too." Brennan grinned at the compliment, before what was expected from her in the next ten minutes hit her, and she took a moment to compose herself.

"I have to speak. I hate these things."

"What are you talking about, Bones? You're great at these things. Listen, you changed history, how many people can say that?" His eyes sparkled, and so did hers.

"You can. Every arrest you make changes history. You make their world safer…"

"…With your help." She gave him the sort of smile that permeated his dreams far too often. "So Andrew", he stuttered for a second as he tried to work out how he was going to find out why he was there and Hacker wasn't. "I thought you were going to take him to this thing. That's what you told me."

"I was, yes, but you and I… this is our case and I guess… what goes on between us, just should be ours. Isn't that what you said?" Brennan gave Booth a mind-blowing look of what seemed to be pure coquettishness, leaving Booth's brain close to short-circuiting. Was Brennan flirting with him? She'd not done that so blatantly since they'd first met!

"Yeah…" was all that he could utter in complete awe. He was one hundred percent lost in her.

It was no coincidence that both partners' eyes had flicked down to each other's lips several times in the last thirty seconds. They'd edged closer to each other and both their voices had dropped to something just above a whisper. There was a point when Brennan felt they might finally get their chance, but at that moment, the door burst open and in came Angela, Cam and the rest, glasses in hand, Cam clearly more relaxed as Angela confidently and correctly found her missing star of the show.

"C'mon you two, the Ambassador's about to speak."

 _Damn you, Angela,_ she found herself thinking _._ For a split second as they entered, Angela realised that they may have inadvertently interrupted something, but ultimately, she and Cam were acting in both Brennan and the Jeffersonian's best interests. Booth knew that, and so did Brennan. They shared a sympathetic look of mild disappointment and a shy smile, Brennan allowing herself to straighten Booth's bow-tie entirely needlessly, before he returned the intimate gesture by brushing a non-existent curl off her shoulder.

"Thanks."

The partners made their way back to the staircase in at the far end of the room, Brennan reminding him not to step on the polished plaque once more. As they walked up the stairs, Brennan reached for Booth's hand, which he took readily, smiling down at where they were connected, and they stayed that way until they reached the door that led back into the main hall. As they reached the door, their hands dropped away automatically as they switched into professional mode. However, as Booth began to push the door open, he paused as they exchanged a look that vocalised nothing and meant everything.

The Ambassador spoke enthusiastically of the historic correction and the Egyptians' gratitude to the Jeffersonian, Brennan and Booth. Brennan did exactly what Booth knew she would do. She was articulate, eloquent and confident, and he found his chest puffed out with pride at the woman who described with great passion, how they had solved the case and what it meant to give justice to the ancient royal family. More than once they shared a brief glance whilst she spoke, Brennan aware of the sea change coming. She was glad of it and it excited her. She wondered if Booth felt what she did. He was so aware of people, of her. They'd not discussed any of these near misses since they'd been together, but this was one even Brennan felt had been so signposted she knew what that meant.

* * *

After she'd spoken, and the crowds melted back into various corners of the room, he grabbed them both a drink from the pop-up bar and greeted her with a glass of champagne.

"You were awesome, Bones. I told you you'd do great." He raised his glass at her and she reached out to clink hers against his, before they both took a sip, maintaining eye contact all the while.

"Thank you." They shared another smile as they sipped their drinks.

"You wanna go for a walk?" She nodded. They downed the rest of their glasses and left the empties on a table. Booth slipped his hand onto the small of her back, gently guiding her down the steps out into the Jefferson gardens. Some of the main grassy paths through the gardens were lit with solar lamps, creating a gentle glow around their feet.

They strolled along slowly with no pre-determined direction, chatting some more about the evening and the case, Booth's hand gradually moving from her back to around her waist. Brennan leant into him and let her head fall to his shoulder. They laughed, they bickered playfully. It all felt so natural.

They ended up in a darker area, under one of the pergolas nestled in the corners of the grounds, far away from the crowds still milling about the main hall and the attached courtyard. Booth sat down on a stone bench and pulled Brennan on to his lap, his hand spanning her back, holding her close, but with their heads remained far enough apart that they could comfortably look into each other's eyes. With Brennan perched on Booth's lap, their faces were at the same height.

"Do you think we'll be interrupted this time?" Brennan whispered, her expression reverting to the same flirtatious one she'd shared with him earlier.

"Nah." Booth gave her a comforting smile. "The Squint squad set up camp by the bar, they'll be on their third bottle of champagne by now. No one else will care where we are in any case."

With his free hand, Booth touched her hair again in the same way he had done down in the Anok exhibit, but left it lingering in that same spot, allowing himself to feel the silky strands twining around his fingers. His hand then flattened out and moved upwards so that he was caressing her cheek, his thumb moving to touch the edge of her lips. Her heart felt like it had flipped, even though Brennan knew that wasn't physiologically possible. It sure as hell felt that way.

Brennan took the opportunity to reach forward and straighten his tie, just as she too had done before, before sliding her hands around his neck. Booth's hand went to the back of her head and they finally leant in for the kiss they'd waited quite some time to have.

In amongst the incredible sensation of their lips meeting, mouths opening and tongues crashing together, Brennan found the nature study pop back into her brain, probably triggered by her straightening his tie again. They kissed for some moments, but she gave an uncharacteristic giggle as she pulled back from him.

"Bones?" He looked lovingly but quizzically at her, not sure whether to be offended.

"Penguins." She smiled broadly at Booth. "I was thinking about penguins." He still looked confused.

"It's a good thing" she said reassuringly, before she rested her forehead gently against his and they held each other closely, gently nuzzling, before she felt herself once again slipping away…

 _ ***The University of Melbourne study is entirely true and can be found via a web search; author,**_ _ **Dr Andi Horvath.**_

 _Reviews, follows and favourites always appreciated._


	6. Chapter 6

_**Sorry for the delay. My thanks as ever to my beta, Jen.**_

 _ **Another of my favourite episodes, the glorious look on the pastor's face at the end as Booth and Brennan look at her – priceless!**_

 _ **I still don't own Bones. I'd have never let it end.**_

* * *

"You know, a lot of psychologists say that jokes are a way to manifest our hidden desires."

Despite Brennan's alleged dislike of what she called a soft science, it never failed to amuse Booth that she often quoted psychology during their conversations. With some irony, despite the need for much humour to soften the unfortunate nuptial blow befalling Hodgins and Angela, there was little hidden about this encounter. Booth found himself in full wedding party regalia, with Brennan literally pressed up against him on a dance floor with absolutely no room for the Holy Spirit, as he was once again teleported by his sleeping subconscious into a potential kissing scenario with his once partner, now girlfriend, in their ongoing debate over whether an earlier hook-up between them would have changed anything at all.

He recognised his surroundings quickly enough, the rich majestic drapes and flocked wallpaper of the main ballroom of the Four Seasons Hotel, the opulence providing an appropriate backdrop to the reception of the now in-absentia Hodgins and Angela. They'd skipped the formalities and were now on their way to their non-honeymoon after their aborted wedding ceremony, whilst they took stock of what to do next. In the event, the reception had ended up being classier and less likely to make Caligula blush than Angela and Hodgins had initially flirted over, especially once Booth and Brennan, as Best Man and Maid of Honour respectively, had stepped in to take over hosting duties. It had been surprisingly easy, but in some respects not so surprising, as the partners worked as they always did to make everything look seamless. The meal had gone smoothly and the two were now cheek to cheek on the dance floor amongst a throng of revellers as a Jazz and Blues band, friends of Billy himself, playing a tight set of songs designed to get people out on the dance floor and keep them there.

Maybe it was the situation. Maybe it was the champagne - nothing less than 1996 Krug on the menu - or maybe it was the two of them once more dressed in evening wear: the satin finish of Brennan's dress, now fixed by Cam so it looked less like the bow from an Easter bonnet had been attached to it ( _what had Angela been thinking_?), so soft under Booth's fingers as he held her waist and pulled her against him. Maybe, it was that Brennan had no desire let go of the broad shoulder she held firmly, the fine weave of his Italian-tailored tuxedo smooth against her hand. In any event, the two of them had been inseparable since the first dance and remained locked together despite several valiant but failed attempts to prize them apart for a dance, including, but not limited to: Cam and Zack, several members of Angela's extended family, and one of Hodgins' drunk college buddies. They'd taken occasional drinks breaks through the evening, but on each occasion, Booth's hand had remained steadfastly in place on her back, Brennan's arm wrapped around his waist - neither let go. They were an impenetrable fortress. The centre was more than holding.

Brennan had been quite overwhelmed by her partner's kindness to her regarding her father, and in the same way she couldn't let go of Booth, she couldn't work out why she'd had a peculiar buzz in her stomach since their hug at the altar that just didn't leave her. With the cuts and bruises he'd sustained at Max's hand – " _You should have seen the other guy_!" he'd joked to Hodgins before the ceremony; the groom took in Booth's appearance with some horror, particularly as he pondered how Angela would react to his mildly battered face in the wedding photos. Yet, perhaps because of the source of his sore cheek, it only endeared Booth to Brennan even more. Notwithstanding how incredibly handsome he looked in his tux, and the way he smelled – he wan't one for an overpowering aftershave - as he held her close, she gently inhaled as her cheek rested on his shoulder. He smelt like coming home, and comfort, and sex, all rolled into one irresistible package. Brennan had sublimated her attraction to Booth some some months since their talk, or rather, his lecture, about 'the line.' However, this evening, that line was in danger of being obliterated and what scared her was that it did not bother her at all.

For Booth, that same buzz had a clear and obvious origin. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd seen her dressed up, but they knew each other so much better now, even since Vegas. They were friends, colleagues… but Bones… in that hot dress with a low cut neckline, allowing him to enjoy the view of her long graceful neck with a gentle curve down to her shoulder? What he wouldn't give to run his lips along that imaginary line, she would be his crack cocaine - hell, she was already. The smokey eye make-up, the gloss on her lips – all these things were provocative enough individually, but together made for a huge test of his resolve, not least of which was just the way they were holding each other at that moment, exacerbating his feelings further.

Still holding her, Booth remembered back to the non-dream version of when this had happened. From memory, at the end of the night they'd been invited to take the unused honeymoon suite that Jack and Angela hadn't used as they'd avoided the reception. They'd reluctantly rejected the idea, mainly because the conversation they'd had about emotional entanglements was still fairly fresh, and as they agreed, it seemed weird sharing a room, especially one designed for lovers, under those circumstances. This time though, he considered… this time would be different. He'd allowed himself to loosen his control just enough, tonight, to let her know for sure how much he cared for her.

It was heading towards the end of the night; everyone had had plenty to drink, and people were starting to head home. The band had finished their last song, but Booth and Brennan were still entwined on the dance floor, reluctant to break apart. The head maitre'd caught Booth's eye, giving him a small smile and a nod.

"Bones…"

"Mmmmm?" She had entirely melted into his arms and quite honestly, he wasn't that bothered about letting go, either.

"Just give me a sec, OK?"

"OK." She responded drowsily. Booth pulled away from her slowly and walked over to the man. Becoming more alert and realising that that the evening really was ending, Brennan wandered over to the side of the room to collect her things as her partner spoke with the maitre'd. He knew what was coming, but remembered to look surprised.

"Mr Booth?"

"Hi Stewart."

"Doctor Hodgins and Miss Montenegro specifically asked me to offer you use of the Royal Suite tonight for yourself and the Maid of Honour. The suite is ready and paid for and a change of clothes has been left for you."

"Really?"

"Ms Montenegro was very insistent, Sir. She said, and I quote: ' _I want it put to good use. Make sure our Best Man and Maid of Honour take it for the night_.'" The Maitre'd gave Booth a professional but mildly knowing smile. Booth tried not to blush.

"Thank you. I will ask her."

"When you've decided, please let the desk clerk know."

Booth walked back over to Brennan. She looked tired, a few errant strands now falling from her previously perfectly coiffured hair. He put his hand on her shoulder and made eye contact with a sympathetic look.

"Bones, Angela and Hodgins want us to have the honeymoon suite tonight."

"What? But we don't have any clothes… or toiletries, or... anything." Booth noted that Brennan said nothing about the appropriateness of them sharing. That was different…

"Um, about that." Booth rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Apparently Angela sorted that."

"What? Surely they had other things on their minds."

"She must have given the hotel some cash and our clothes sizes – I mean – she knows yours anyway, right? From your bridesmaid's dress." Brennan's face was unreadable for a moment.

"I guess," she considered, "As it's late, and we've both been hosting this all evening… and drinking alcohol, it could be quite convenient to use the room…" She searched his face for an answer.

"Yeah, it could." He smiled at her - one of those smiles! She couldn't help but respond, and they stood still for a moment, the room once again fading out, before Booth composed himself and took his hand from her shoulder and moved it to hold her hand, leading her gently to the reception desk and addressing the clerk accordingly.

"Mr Booth, Doctor Brennan. Your room keys. Would you like assistance to your room?"

"No, we're fine thanks. No luggage." Booth shrugged affably, before turning back to Brennan. They glanced at each other awkwardly and the clerk smiled sweetly at them. She was familiar with the situation, and understood why this had been set up for them. Clearly there was something unresolved between the two of them.

"No problem. Swipe your card in the lift, you'll need that for the floor access. It's the top floor, walk to your left as you exit the lift. It's the Royal Suite. You'll find everything is in order for you there. You have a late check-out, so no hurry in the morning." The clerk tried not to smirk as she relayed the last part of information. She had seen enough people come and go to know who would be taking advantage of the late departure.

They took their keys with a nod and a thank you and made their way to the lift. They stood a couple of feet apart from each other, both staring ahead nervously, not wanting to acknowledge what was taking place.

As they entered their suite, Booth whistled at the size of it. It was huge. They exchanged a look of appreciative incredulity, before starting to wander around. Booth found the sound system and found a radio station playing some smooth Jazz. It seemed to fit with the situation. He called across to his partner, who was somewhere around a corner, out of his eye-line.

"Hey Bones, I'm gonna get some water – would you like some?"

"Sure. Thanks," Brennan acknowledged. She strolled around the suite admiring the sumptuous décor, the sound of Booth opening cupboards and clinking glasses in the background, before walking into the master bedroom and finding three clothes bags – two with her name on, and one with Booth's. Hers were labelled 'tonight' and 'tomorrow'. She sighed, guessing what Angela had planned, but curiosity got the better of her, and she found herself taking the bag labelled 'tonight' into the master bathroom.

* * *

By the time Booth had entered the bedroom, Brennan was nowhere to be seen.

Brennan took off her dress and neatly hung it up on the bathroom door. She contemplated what the events of the evening, and those possibly about to transpire, could really mean. She had a rush of adrenaline which she couldn't decide whether was out of nerves or excitement. This was Booth, not some random one-night stand, and she needed to work out whether she was willing to commit to something beyond "biological urges". She unzipped the clothes bag, pulled out the item that Angela had clearly selected for her, and stared at it intently.

* * *

"Bones? You there?" He put her water down and perched on the edge of the bed, not entirely sure what to do with himself, so he just waited. Some minutes passed. His throat suddenly felt very constricted, so he took off his bow tie and opened the his top shirt button.

The bathroom door cracked open and Brennan reappeared, the same slightly gawky look she'd had as she'd appeared from the bathroom in Vegas some months before. Booth found himself with the same expression on his face, but this time, the source wasn't a black dress, but a pale blue silk negligee that lit up the brightest blue in her eyes. The length and cut were both reasonably modest, but with Brennan's shapely curves, Booth couldn't help but take her all in. Her hair was now down, the previously pinned tresses now cascading down over her shoulders in gentle waves. She gave him a nervous smile, not knowing what would happen next, albeit she had a pretty clear idea what Angela was hinting at.

"Wow." Booth was rooted to the spot. Brennan hesitantly walked a few steps towards him until they were about two arms' lengths apart. She glanced at him coyly, noting that he looked incredibly handsome. He had done all night, but now he'd loosened his clothes a little, her attention was drawn to a sweet spot on his neck where she could now see a little skin. She wanted to get a lot closer to that spot.

Brennan took a breath and lifted her face to meet his. The partners locked eyes, electricity sparking between them.

Brennan gazed into Booth's eyes, and seeing a reflection of her own hopes and fears, relaxed her shoulders a little.

"So…" He stepped a little closer and put out his hand to take hers. "Dance with me?" The Jazz was still drifting in from the other room. He pulled her in gently before wrapping his left arm around her waist, his right hand taking hers and holding it between them. Brennan instinctively wrapped her free hand around his neck. Their eyes didn't leave each other, not at first. Then Brennan's eyes drifted down to Booth's mouth, and to the spot she'd seen earlier. He felt her hand gently stroke the soft, short hair on the nape of his neck, before pulling his head closer toward hers. He needed little encouragement, and with a grin, closed the distance between them until they were kissing – first tentatively, soon more passionately. His shirt seemed to be unbuttoning itself, and before he knew it, Brennan was peppering his chest, and that spot on his neck, with one open mouth kiss after another. His trousers soon followed his shirt, Brennan's nimble fingers operating most effectively whilst he was distracted, and he was stepping out of them whilst still in mid-clinch.

* * *

This time, Booth's subconscious finally allowed him to live through the best part of his dream, the one that he had been previously denied in the previous episodes that night. He hooked the straps off Brennan's negligee, stepping back for a moment to watch it drop from her and pool on the floor, his expression, as he did so, one of awe. She stood before him left only in her panties, her face part defiance, part desire. He took a deep breath and took her in his arms again. As they kissed once more, Booth pulled himself and Brennan onto the bed, so when they landed, she was lying on top of him, their mostly now naked bodies pressed against each other, reactions apparent from the effect. They kissed again vigorously for some time, before Brennan pulled back from him with a smile. As she did so, he pulled a strand of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

"Bones? What is it?"

"I just wanted to tell you… it's not just biological urges. I wanted you to know that." It wasn't an, 'I love you,' but it was the closest he could have hoped for. All he could do was kiss her again.

* * *

Booth lay staring at the ceiling, Brennan's auburn curls strewn across this chest, moving gently as she dozed next to him. It turned out she was much more of a snuggler than he'd expected. He felt elated… and exhausted. He closed his eyes just for a moment. As he did so, he felt himself once more falling away…

* * *

 _ **As ever, constructive reviews, follows and favourites gratefully received.**_


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